


Pick Yourself Undone

by sxldato



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, Bobby Singer's Panic Room, Demon Blood Addiction, Gen, Parental Bobby Singer, Sam Winchester Detoxing From Demon Blood, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 03:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14416263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxldato/pseuds/sxldato
Summary: Season 5. Slight canon divergence. Sam swallows the blood in the vial.





	Pick Yourself Undone

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Addiction bingo square  
> unless you're new, you already know i'm a sucker for a good ol demon blood detox and i will jump at any opportunity to write about it

Sam came crawling back with shame weighing him down. He didn’t know where Dean was and he didn’t want to call, so he drove to Bobby’s before the withdrawal could start. 

He’d called ahead, so Bobby was waiting for him on the porch when he arrived. 

“Looks like you’ve been through the wringer,” Bobby said. 

“Yeah.” Sam had seen his reflection in a gas station bathroom mirror a hundred miles back; he knew he looked like hammered crap. 

“C’mon, let’s get you inside.” 

Sam trailed behind Bobby, trying to ignore the feeling of guilt as Bobby rolled his wheelchair through the front door. Bobby offered him whiskey, which Sam refused. His hands had already started shaking. 

“Bobby…” Sam hugged himself, attempting to give himself some kind of security. “Something happened.” 

They sat down at the kitchen table and he told Bobby everything. He watched Bobby’s expression contort into anger. 

“I didn’t want to, please believe me,” Sam begged. He didn’t think he could take it if Bobby kicked him out. The last thing he wanted was to have to find an old motel to hole up in alone until this thing blew over. 

“I ain’t mad at you,” Bobby said. “It’s those jackasses I’m mad at. They had no right doing that to you.” 

Sam nearly burst into tears from relief, and Bobby pulled Sam into his arms. It was an odd angle because of the wheelchair, but Sam didn’t care. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam whimpered. 

“It ain’t your fault, kid,” Bobby assures him. “I know you’ve been trying real hard to fight it.” 

Bobby set Sam up in the panic room. Sam thought of how apt that name was, considering the anxiety it caused him from the last time he was in here. 

“I’m thinkin’ it won’t be as bad as before,” Bobby said. “Since you didn’t have so much.” 

Sam shrugged. He grabbed one of the blankets on the cot and wrapped it around himself despite the sweat prickling over his skin.

“How you holding up?” 

Sam took a deep breath through his nose. He was starting to feel sick. “Don’t feel good,” he mumbled. 

He leaned over to rest his head on his knees. Bobby wheeled over and rubbed his back, the same way Dean used to do. 

“You don’t have to answer,” Bobby said, “but I gotta wonder– why’d you come to me and not your brother?” 

“I didn’t want his first time seeing me again to be like this,” Sam answered. “I didn’t want to find out what he’d say.” 

They sat in silence for a minute or two. 

“You know Dean still loves you,” Bobby said. “As pin-headed and stubborn as you can be.” 

Sam nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. 

“Will you stay with me?” Sam asked. “I’m not gonna try and run, I swear.” 

Bobby considered it. “Alright,” he agreed with a slight sigh, brushing Sam’s hair out of his eyes. “But you knock me out again and I’ll have your hide.” 

Sam managed an exhausted smile. 

\- 

The withdrawal got intense fast, and Sam felt like complete shit. He tried to sleep through it, but it turned out to be a spectacularly foolish idea. When he opened his eyes Bobby was gone and someone else had taken his place. 

“No,” Sam groaned, dread settling in him like a stone. “No, go away.” 

Lucifer knelt by the cot and caressed Sam’s cheek. Sam pulled away, scrambling off the bed and backing himself against the wall. 

“You’re suffering,” Lucifer murmured. “I could make it stop, I could make it all go away.”

Sam sunk to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest in a weak attempt at shielding himself. 

“Sam…” Lucifer came towards him with the ease of a lion approaching an injured gazelle. He was effortlessly gentle, but there was something dark and predatory lurking behind his eyes that sent fear plunging ice-cold through Sam’s heart. 

“Let me help you,” he said. 

“You stay the hell away from me,” Sam choked. “And you stay away from my family.”

“The last thing I want is to cause you harm. I need you, Sam.” 

“Well, tough,” Sam spat out. “You’re not getting me.” 

Lucifer smiled a little sadly. “But I will,” he insisted. “I’m not trying to frighten you, I’m just speaking the truth.” 

Frost spread beneath Lucifer’s feet. Sam wondered what poor son of a bitch Lucifer was riding right now, and what Lucifer had said to make him agree. 

“When we meet, face to face,” Lucifer said, “you’ll understand.” 

-

When Sam awoke for real, Bobby was sitting next to him with the newspaper and a cup of coffee. He became increasingly aware of the nausea curdling in his stomach and the cold sweat breaking out over his skin. 

“Bobby,” Sam croaked. 

Without another word, Bobby reached for the metal bucket and held it under Sam’s chin. 

“Nightmare?” Bobby guessed. 

Sam retched into the bucket in response. 

“Okay, okay.” Bobby pushed Sam’s bangs out of the way and palmed his forehead. “Just get it out.” 

Sam’s pulse was loud in his ears and the deep gnaw of hunger in his chest grew stronger. He gagged again and only bile came up, burning the back of his throat. 

“You gotta relax, kid.” Bobby’s tone was gruff but tender, full of that fatherly kind of concern that made Sam want to bawl. “Deep breaths.” 

Sam drew away from the bucket and sagged against Bobby’s shoulder.

“Nothing to throw up,” he panted. 

A metallic taste lingered in his mouth, and he gratefully accepted the plastic cup of water that Bobby presented him. Even if he couldn’t keep it down, it would at least make throwing up hurt less. He drank it all and let the empty cup fall next to the cot, then returned to resting against Bobby. 

“This is shit.” 

“Yeah, I’d say so, too.” 

The room spun and Sam closed his eyes. “I’m sorry I forced this on you, Bobby. I shouldn’t have…” 

“Are you kidding?” Bobby sounded incredulous. “You ain’t forcing anything on me. You’re my boy.” 

Sam didn’t know how to tell Bobby how much that meant to him, how lost he’d felt since Ruby’s betrayal, how afraid he was. He didn’t know how to explain that Bobby taking him in had probably saved his life. 

“Thank you,” he said. Tears spilled down his cheeks and absorbed into the soft fabric of Bobby’s shirt. 

“You don’t have to get all weepy about it,” Bobby said, but he put an arm around Sam and pulled him closer. 

“Sorry…” Sam breathed in the scent of whiskey and old books, trying to get a hold of himself. 

“It’s alright.” Bobby was rubbing his back again. “But we oughta get you cleaned up, when you’re feeling up to it. You’re getting pretty damn ripe.” 

Sam huffed out a laugh on his exhale. “Okay.”


End file.
